


Koti

by lumassen



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Childhood Friends, Denial of Feelings, Friends to Lovers, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Toxic masculinity issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26977954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumassen/pseuds/lumassen
Summary: To most city kids, the idea of spending a month and a half on a dairy farm in rural Finland would be seen as a punishment, but not to Sigurd. Gladly replacing the hustle and bustle of central Oslo for the Askolan countryside, Sigurd's childhood summers were filled with days spent berry picking, diving in the lake, and getting lost in fields of barley; all with his best friend Timo. As the years went by they became inseparable and nothing, not even the thousand kilometres spent apart for the rest of the year, could come between them. That is, until, they grew up.
Relationships: Finland/Norway (Hetalia)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 31





	1. Friends

**Author's Note:**

> For my friends - y'all know who you are and you mean the world to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> art by the amazing @snorikefjell

_**Summer, 2012** _

_When the 'fasten seatbelt' sign came on above him, 9 year old Sigurd had reached over and clasped his mother's hand from where she sat in the seat beside him. He looked nervously out of the plane window, waiting for them to drop below the clouds, when the crew's announcement of their descent crackled over the speaker system. They started in Norwegian, and Sigurd listened as the captain explained that landing was estimated to be in 20 minutes and that the weather was sunny and pleasant. Then when the English announcement started Sigurd had to really pay attention, picking out as many words as he could understand. But then the third and final language began._

_Not able to understand a word of the incredibly foreign sounding language currently being spoken over the tannoy, Sigurd felt his stomach lurch and gripped his mother's hand a little tighter as he realised that he was now very far away from home. The plane broke through the clouds and Sigurd looked out across the fields of green that stretched for miles and miles._

_He'd never left Norway before, and never had to speak English apart from in school lessons, so the thought of having to spend the next month and a half in a stranger's house in an unfamiliar country made Sigurd wish that he'd stayed with his grandfather instead._

_As the plane dropped lower and lower, Sigurd's ears felt funny and he guessed that his little brother must have felt it too as he placed his hands over them and started to cry. Letting go of his mother's hand, Sigurd shifted in his seat so that he was leaning across her lap,_

_"Hey, you don't need to cry. Here, hold my hand. It's okay." he said as he instead reached over and took Emil's hand away from his ear and held it gently. Emil stopped crying and looked at him, though his eyes were still brimming with tears and as he blinked a couple rolled down his cheeks._

_They remained holding hands for the duration of the flight, and Sigurd put on a brave face in front of his little brother even though he was a bit scared by the turbulence as the plane landed on the runway._

_Once the plane had reached the gate and they were allowed up from their seats, Sigurds mother picked Emil up and held him against her hip while Sigurd walked close beside her, off the plane and through the airport, dragging his little suitcase behind him._

_It was busy, there were people everywhere and Sigurd stared at signs and notice boards as he passed them, trying to make sense of the jumbled letters. Men in suits talking loudly into mobile phones, teenagers in a large group giggling over a magazine, a woman rocking a push chair back and forth while a baby cried from within. They all towered above Sigurd who shrank beneath them and was just about to reach up to take hold of his mother’s hand once more when they stopped walking, and his eye met with those of another boy his age peering out from between the jean clad legs of his own mother. As the adults shook hands and conversed in broken English, the children just stared at one another, until Sigurd felt a gentle hand on the small of his back._

_“Sigurd, this is Timo. Why don’t you say hello?”_

_Peering up at his mother through the blonde curls that always seemed to fall over his eye no matter how many times he tried to tuck them behind his ear, Sigurd nibbled at the edge of his fingernail before turning to Timo again._

_He hesitated for a moment, pinned beneath Timo’s inquisitive gaze, before barely parting his lips to mumble a “Hallo” as he took his finger from his mouth momentarily to wave his hand in greeting._

_Clutching a fistful of jean fabric, Timo hid further behind his mother, a string of those same foreign sounding words that Sigurd had first heard on the plane falling from his mouth. He listened to the roll of his tongue and to the way his teeth caught between his lips when he spoke, then when he stopped talking Sigurd took a hesitant step toward him, fascinated._

_Sigurd caught his mother’s eye for reassurance before taking another step, leaving her side to stand before Timo only when she gave him a nod and a smile._

_“H-hvor gammel er du?” (How old are you?) he asked Timo, not sure how else to ask the question other than in Norwegian, and watched as Timo’s eyes widened a little._

_“Åtta jag.” (Eight, I.”)_

_Though puzzled at why Timo spoke a little funny, Sigurd was pleased that he’d understood, and the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he pointed toward himself,_

_“Jeg er ni.” (I’m nine.) he continued, though his smile soon faltered when Timo’s face drew into a pout and he crossed his arms firmly across his chest._

_“Åtta och halv.” (Eight and half.)_

_Sigurd wasn't sure now if Timo was upset, or if it was just the hard roll of his tongue once more as he spoke in an odd dialect that Sigurd could only just make out that made him sound angry. But his eyes had narrowed and he puffed out his chest and his pout protruded more over his lips as his mother leant down to run her hand through his pale blonde hair._ _She said something to him again that Sigurd understand, but whatever she said made Timo's face slacken and he unfolded his arms, letting them drop by his side._

_"Vänner?" (Friends?) he said, a hopeful tone to his voice, and Sigurd regarded him for a moment before he nodded slowly._

_"Ja. Venner." (Yeah. Friends.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had the idea in my head for this fic for a very long time, and I'm excited to be finally writing it. I'm sorry that this prologue is a little short and that the dialogue is a little choppy, I promise it's meant to be that way. Sigurd is speaking Norwegian, and Timo is trying his very best at Swedish.
> 
> This story will be about self discovery, teenage drama, and just about finding your place in the world I guess. I hope you enjoy it and that I can manage to write it the way that I want it to come across.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and welcome to yet another au lol
> 
> -lumassen x


	2. The City Boy Comes Home

**8 years later - Summer, 2020**

As the plane pulled into the gate and the sound of hundreds of seatbelts all being unfastened at the same time clattered through the air, Sigurd gently shook awake the elderly woman who had fallen asleep in the seat beside him. 

" _Anteeksi_? Uh, hallo?" (Excuse me? Hello?)

She'd fallen asleep after just 10 minutes of being in the air, and Sigurd hadn't had the heart to wake her up when she started to lean toward him, so instead spent the duration of the flight pinned between her shoulder and the window of the plane. Luckily it only took just under an hour and a half to fly from Oslo to Helsinki, and Sigurds legs were only just starting to fall asleep from not being able to move around without disturbing her.

She stirred, grumbling something in a heavy finnish dialect, that Sigurd couldn't make out even if he tried despite 8 years of summers spent in Finland, and frowned at him before getting up out of her seat with a huff and snatching her bag from the overhead locker. 

When he'd been with his Mom and Emil, other passengers had been quick to allow them up from the seats and get off the plane first, being polite to a mother and her children, but Sigurd had graduated from high school and was old enough now to fly on his own at 17, and this was the first summer he'd be spending in Finland without them.

The plane had half emptied by the time a man finally stopped in the aisle to allow Sigurd a second to get up out of his seat and haul his carry on bag out from the overhead, and he smiled and mumbled a 'thanks' before turning and making his way to the exit. Then after nodding at the flight attendants who stood by the door and over-enthusiastically thanked him for flying with _SAS_ , Sigurd stepped out of the plane and set his suitcase down, wheeling it behind him with a spring in his step.

As he walked along, the language that was lettered over signs and drifted through the airport across tannoy announcements was no longer unfamiliar, and Sigurd followed directions for the customs desk. He couldn't by any means speak or read more than a couple of sentences of Finnish confidently, but after spending so much time with Timo and his family over the years he'd picked up the odd phrases here and there. Once Sigurd reached customs, he felt butterflies forming in the pit of his stomach as he waited in line to have his passport stamped, knowing that Timo was waiting for him in arrivals just on the other side of the double doors.

The whole reason that he'd started coming to Finland in the first place to stay with the Väinämöinen's for the summer was that Timo’s parents ran one of the many farms that his mother over saw as part of an agricultural trade deal, and she'd made friends with Timo's mother through the firm she worked for. It was easier for her stay and work in Finland during the visits instead of catching a flight every couple of days, but as a single parent she couldn't leave Sigurd and Emil alone in Norway by themselves, so they came too, and the Väinämöinen’s always welcomed them as though they were family every summer. 

They'd visited every year without fail up until last year when Sigurd's mother took a promotion and no longer needed to do routine visits of the Finnish farms. Sigurd was crushed, and his summer spent in Oslo instead had felt miserable and seemed to drag on forever to the point where he was glad to go back to school even despite being in his stressful final year just for something to do. He hadn't seen Timo for nearly two years as a result, yet they still spoke every couple of days over Facebook or Facetime like clockwork. Sigurd had school friends, and he had Emil, but no one understood him quite like Timo. He was his best friend. 

Now at the front of the customs line, Sigurd waited for the next available assistant to beckon him to their desk, and when they did he pulled his passport from his back pocket and handed it to them.

"Good afternoon, welcome to Finland. Where are you staying?" she asked, peering at Sigurds passport photo then at him before stamping the page.

"Askola. I'm visiting a friend." Sigurd said as he took his passport back. 

The customs assistant spent a couple of minutes taking down the address of Timo's house where Sigurd would be staying and the date of his departure back to Norway, then wished him a pleasant stay before allowing him on his way.

Dragging his bag behind him and hurrying through to the arrivals lounge, Sigurd felt his heart begin to beat a little faster as he looked around the room for Timo as soon as he'd set foot through the doors. He stood on his tiptoes, craning his neck to look through the sea of people embracing and welcoming their own friends and family members, but couldn't see Timo anywhere. 

Then, just as Sigurd was about to get his phone out to call him, he felt someone prod his arm.

"You've grew taller, you bastard." 

His accent was still as thick as ever, English skills rusty after not needing to use them until now, but Sigurd recognised his voice instantly and turned to meet Timo's bright smile. But before he could say anything to Timo's remark, he flung his arms around his neck, and Sigurd dropped his bags to the floor to return the hug.

"Äiti is probably going to cry when she sees you, y’know." Timo mumbled from where his face was pressed against Sigurd's chest, then he let go and stepped back, regarding Sigurd with a wistful look on his face.

In the two years since Sigurd had last seen Timo, he hadn't really changed much, though his wiry blond hair was cut a little shorter, and he’d grown maybe an inch or so. He looked older of course, but he still wore the same baggy sweatpants tucked into his boots and a plaid shirt thrown over a t-shirt.

Picking his bag back up, Sigurd nodded to the one thing he _had_ noticed was different, 

"You've got fat." he teased, raising his eyebrow at Timo's gut with a smirk, then watched as his face turned pink.

"Hey fuck you, tell me something I don't know!" Timo cried, smacking Sigurd across the back of the head lightly, though he too had a smirk on his lips, clearly not offended in the slightest, "I just gotta make the most of home cooked meals before I start with the military. I'll be skin and bone by the end of my time there." 

They set off walking toward the luggage carousel and it felt like no time had passed at all. Though they kept in regular contact, the warmth of Timo’s cheerful smile and the excited lilt of his voice when he spoke was something that never could be replicated through a pixelated video chat, and in a way Sigurd felt that he’d come home when he was by Timo’s side.

“So it’s mandatory right, your conscription?” Sigurd asked as he kept an eye out for his suitcase on the conveyor belt of the carousel while Timo looked at him, his head cocked to the side.

“My what?” 

“Your conscription. You know, getting called up to join the military?”

“Ah, you mean _maanpuolustusvelvollisuus_?” Timo said casually, and Sigurd just blinked at the enormously long word.

“Yes. That.”

Timo shrugged, “Yeah, it’s mandatory. Apparently you can go to jail if you don’t do it for, like, 173 days or somethings.”

Sigurd’s shock must’ve shown on his face as Timo hurried to reassure him, flapping around in front of him,

“But it’s not fighting! It’s mainly just eating shitty cheese sandwiches in the forest around a campfire and firing some guns. Finnish people do that anyway, so in this case it’s just with the addition of a military uniform. And there’s no sauna.” 

Timo looked dejected, but Sigurd knew it wasn’t because of shit cheese sandwiches or having to fire a gun, and instead it was due to the lack of sauna.

“That surprises me. You have a sauna at the top of a ferris wheel, but not in the military? What’s the world coming to?” Sigurd said with a laugh, then left Timo’s side for a moment to grab his suitcase from the carousel as he spotted it. He hauled it from the conveyor belt and dragged it over to where Timo was standing with his hand outstretched,

“Here. I’ll get it.” he offered, and so Sigurd handed him the suitcase without a fuss; he wasn’t thrilled about the idea of dragging it through Helsinki anyway and so now he didn’t have to.

Timo led them out of the airport and towards the metro. Once they’d bought tickets and dragged Sigurd’s suitcase down three flights of stairs they boarded the next tram to Helsinki centre. The tram car was packed, and so Timo and Sigurd had to stand up. While they travelled, Timo filled Sigurd in on everything that was going on at the farm, and Sigurd couldn’t help but notice the odd glances he was receiving from other passengers. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the fact that Timo was passionately talking about his favourite cow, Mila, who had produced over 1000 litres of milk this season and the local newspaper wanted to feature the Väinämöinen’s farm in an article because of it, or if it was because he was a Finn speaking English willingly, but Timo was happily oblivious so Sigurd just nodded along as he continued. 

By the time they’d reached the last stop in Helsinki central Sigurd was starting to feel a little hungry, so once they’d ambled through the city and were waiting for the bus to Askola to arrive Timo had left Sigurd with the suitcases while he ran to grab them something to eat from Hesburger across the street. Sigurd sat on top of his suitcase watching Timo through the window of the restaurant as he ordered, then laughed as Timo pulled a face and stuck his middle finger up when he caught Sigurd staring. 

Sigurd shook his head then cast his gaze a little further down the street, a soft expression of content across his features as he looked up at the tall office blocks and quaint cafes. Considering that Sigurd had lived amongst the hustle and bustle of Oslo all of his life, he never quite felt like he belonged there. Helsinki was different. Though Sigurd missed his mother and Emil already, he didn’t feel sad or homesick.

A bus rumbled by, pulling Sigurd from his thoughts. At first he just glanced at it as it passed, not paying much attention, but when his eye caught the destination on the front, Askola via Porvoo, he gasped and scrambled to his feet, waving frantically to try and get Timo’s attention again through the glass window he was behind. Now, this is where Helsinki was different to Oslo; and if they missed this bus to Askola then they’d have to wait 3 hours for the next one. 

The bus pulled into the station, the doors hissing as they opened, and Sigurd bit his lip anxiously as he looked between the bus and the back of Timo’s head, willing him to turn around already. Then as the line of passengers began to board, Sigurd cupped his hands to his mouth and called Timo’s name, feeling his face turn scarlett as two passers-by gave him a funny look as they walked by. He sighed, not wanting to leave the suitcases to go over and fetch Timo, so he called out again louder this time, and to his relief Timo turned around. 

He pointed to the bus then watched as Timo’s eyes widened and he turned back to the employee who was bagging up his food, his arms flapping and his mouth moving at a million miles an hour - no doubt spluttering apologies while he asked her to hurry. There were no more passengers waiting on the platform by the time Timo dashed out from Hesburger with a brown paper bag full of food under his arm.

“I had to leave without a portion of the fried chicken! It wasn’t ready- Ah!” he cried as he ran across the road, and Sigurd’s heart lurched as Timo narrowly avoided getting knocked over by a taxi that had to slam it’s brakes on. The driver sounded the horn at Timo and they shouted profanities at each other before it drove off again and Timo picked up the smaller of Sigurd’s two suitcases.

“ _Kiirehtiä_! (Hurry!) We can’t miss this bus!” he called over his shoulder, clutching the bag of fast food and dragging Sigurd’s case harshly behind him. Sigurd followed behind, the bottom of the suitcase that he was pulling banging against his ankles as he ran. The driver had just closed the luggage compartment as they reached the bus, and Sigurd stood awkwardly by Timo’s side as he spoke quickly and a little breathlessly to the driver, who eyed the greasy bag of food beneath Timo’s arm and then Sigurd’s huge suitcase with a months worth of clothes inside before he rolled his eyes and sighed, opening the luggage compartment back up again. Shoving the bags in the stowe, Timo and Sigurd thanked the driver profusely before clambering aboard the bus and finding their seat. Sigurd flopped down in the window seat and Timo slid in beside him, stuffing a few fries in his mouth between fits of laughter.

“I can’t believed that we nearly missed the bus.” he said, offering the bag of food to Sigurd,

“You’re the city boy, you’re supposed to be good at this stuff.”

Sigurd stared at Timo in mock outrage, pausing with his hand halfway in the bag, fingers clutched around a portion of chicken strips.

“Excuse me but I was happy enough to get anything to eat, you’re the one who wanted to find a Hesburger.” he bit back, then took a bite of chicken in defiance. 

“Siggy, the closest one to me is 21km away. I live in the middle of nowhere. I was in Helsinki, so I wanted Hesburger.” 

Timo rolled his eyes as he helped himself to more fries, then licked the salt off his fingers one at a time. Deciding it was best not to argue over fried chicken, Sigurd dropped the fast food debate and tucked into his own food, a comfortable silence falling between them as the bus set off. 

It took just under 3 hours to get from Helsinki to Askola, and Sigurd was away in his own little world, watching the city and the suburbs slowly turn into the winding roads and wide open fields of rural Finland that he’d missed so much. It was 4:30pm, but the summer sun was still high in the sky, and the heat rose visibly from the tarmac road. Every now and again the bus would pass wooded areas full of silver birch, their leaves bright green against the hazy yellow of the wheat and barley fields. For the second time that day, Sigurd had someone asleep on his shoulder, but the elderly woman on the plane had least tried to avoid contact with Sigurd. Timo on the other hand had his head nestled in the crook of his neck, and his hair kept tickling Sigurd’s nose if he breathed in too sharply. 

Just as Sigurd’s eyes were growing heavy and he felt sleep beckoning, the driver called out that the next stop would be Sorvasuontie, and he blinked himself back to reality. Sitting up in his seat, he gently shook Timo awake and waited for a moment while he came to a little.

“Next stop.” Sigurd said, and Timo nodded sleepily, rubbing his eyes and stretching his arms above his head. 

Gathering the empty food wrappers and stuffing them all back into the paper bag, Timo stood from his seat just as the bus stopped and made his way down the stairs, Sigurd following close behind. The driver hauled the suitcases out, and Timo and Sigurd thanked him before he got back into the bus and drove away, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. 

“Well, here we are.” Timo said with a small sigh. There wasn’t a single car or any other house in sight, the only sound around the two boys was the wind rustling through the trees and the distant sound of a tractor engine ploughing the fields. From the main road through Askola, Sigurd knew the way to the Väinämöinen farm like the back of his hand, but he let Timo lead the way, taking them off down the narrow dirt path that snaked through the fields to his house - a classic red wooden farmhouse that sat nestled between the trees in the distance. 

“So, Isä thinks that we’re too old to share a room now, so he’s set up a room for you in the basement. It used to be the study where we kept all the files and ledgers for the farm so it’s a nice space, but it can get pretty warm down there after sauna. Sorry.” Timo looked at Sigurd as he spoke, a worried expression on his face.

“Oh. Well that’s fine. I’ll only really be sleeping in there anyway, so what does it matter? Don’t worry about it, Tim. Besides, I haven’t missed your snoring so it’ll be nice to have my own room.” 

Timo stopped walking, spinning around on the spot and narrowing his eyes at Sigurd who just grinned sheepishly, holding his hands up in feigned innocence as Timo pointed a finger at him.

“I do have a gun you know. Several actually, so watch it.” he warned, but it wasn’t long before a grin spread across his own face,

“And in case you didn’t know, you fart in your sleep. So there.” Turning on his heel, Timo picked up Sigurd’s suitcase so that it was no longer dragging on the ground behind him and broke into a run.

“I’m not chasing you! We’re not kids anymore!” Sigurd called after him, but Timo didn’t stop and instead just turned to glance over his shoulder as he stuck his tongue out at Sigurd while continuing running. Not wanting to be left trailing behind, or be shown up by the fact that Timo could carry a 22kg suitcase in one hand with ease while running, Sigurd picked up the pace and jogged after him - thankful that his carry-on suitcase was considerably less bulky.

“Remind me how old you are again?” Sigurd teased when he trudged up to the porch out of breath and with a sweat breaking across his brow to find Timo sitting on the top step, a smug look on his face.

“Sixteen and a half.” he said proudly, and Sigurd just rolled his eyes. 

Then, the front door opened and a fluffy white dog escaped, followed by Timo’s mother. 

“Hey Hana, look who it is! It’s Sigurd!” Timo pointed at Sigurd as he tried and failed to stop Hana from clambering all over him, her little tail wagging excitedly as she licked the tip of his nose.

  
“Oh Sigurd, look at you!” Karoliina gushed as she stepped around Timo and the dog on the top step of the porch and brought Sigurd’s face into her hands. In just the two years it had been since Sigurd had last seen Karoliina, he was surprised to see that her dark hair was starting to grey now, starting at her roots. Apart from his blonde hair that he got from his father, Timo took after his mother a lot, right down to her kind brown eyes and round face.

“Was the flight okay? How’s Britt, and little Emil? Has my Timo behaved himself?”

While asking a hundred questions, Karoliina brought Sigurd into a tight hug, squeezing him tightly, and Sigurd caught Timo’s amused expression over her shoulder as he looked at him and shrugged.

“The flight was good. Mom and Emil are fine, but Emil isn’t really little anymore.” he said, avoiding the last question as he decided it was best not to inform Karoliina that her son had almost been run over while running for the bus and had threatened to shoot him.

Letting go of Sigurd, Timo’s mother sighed as she brushed her thumb over his cheek,

“Of course he isn’t. He must be 13 now, right? And you, you’ve gotten so handsome-”

“Äiti…” Timo interrupted, standing up with Hana in his arms.

“ _Mitä_? (What?) You’re not the only one who missed the Thomassen’s last year, you know.” Karoliina tutted at her son, though her expression remained warm as she took the hint and turned back to Sigurd.

“Come and bring your things inside then I’ll let you two properly catch up. You are here for 7 weeks after all, so I’ll be seeing plenty of you.”

Picking up Sigurd’s bag, Karoliina followed Timo inside once he'd put Hana down and took the other suitcase. Now that she’d finished fussing over Timo, Hanatamago ran circles around Sigurds feet, only stopping when they were inside the house and he leant down to scratch behind her ear. 

Like Timo and his mother, their house had hardly changed since Sigurd was last within its walls. The entranceway was still as cluttered as ever, with a bright rug rolled out across the wooden floor, a pile of muddy work boots and wellingtons by the door, and family photos hung haphazardly on every inch of the wall by the coat rack. Sigurd, Emil and his mother were even in a couple of them.

“I’m sure my _muru-poika_ (darling boy) told you that Petteri has made space for you down in the basement? I’ve put some sheets there freshly for you, but feel free to make it your space.” Karoliina fussed as she set Sigurd’s suitcase down at the top of the stairs that led to the basement,

“I’m making dinner for 19 hours, so as long as you can help me set the table before we eat then I don’t mind if you want to go exploring or whatever it is that you boys do out in the barn.”

Karoliina then turned to head through the house to the kitchen, but just as she disappeared through the doorway she stopped and turned to regard Timo and Sigurd for a moment, her eyes flickering between them before she smiled,

“I’m glad you’re here, Sigurd.” she said, then turned once more to leave the pair of them standing in the hall.

“I’d apologise for my fusspot mother, but you already know what she’s like.” Timo chuckled, kicking his boots off, adding them to the pile by the door then picked up Sigurd’s case once again and took himself down to the basement. Sigurd left his shoes neatly beneath the coat rack and followed Timo downstairs. He couldn’t remember much of what the study had looked like before Timo’s father had re-done it to turn it into a sleeping space, but instead of a desk and shelves that bowed under the weight of years worth of paperwork and leather bound ledgers with all of the farm’s takings and exports handwritten within them there was now a single bed, a little bedside table and lamp and a flimsy looking flatpack wardrobe, but it was everything that Sigurd needed, and it was his.

“ _Jumalauta_ , it really is warm down here. Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Timo said, fanning himself dramatically with his hand as he set the suitcase down on the bed. He was right, the air was close and the room was a little stuffy, but Sigurd noticed that the little window high up on the wall that peered out at ground level outside wasn’t open.

“I’ll be fine, I just need to open that window I think.”

Timo didn’t really look convinced, but he nodded and smiled nonetheless.

“If you say so. Well, I’m going to go for a shower, but when I’m done do you want to go and see the girls?”

Not many 16 year old’s faces would light up at the mention of a herd of cows, but Timo adored his ‘girls’, and Sigurd would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to seeing them.

“Sure. I’ll unpack a little and text my mom to let her know I got here okay. Just come down and get me when you’re ready.” he said, flopping down onto the bed and pulling his phone from his pocket.

“Well tell her I said Hi!” Timo beamed at the mention of Sigurd’s mother, and Sigurd smiled back.

“I will.”

Once Timo had thumped heavy footed back up the wooden staircase, Sigurd took a moment to lie back on the bed, fiddling with the Moomin patterned comforter between his fingertips as he closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the house, enjoying not having the loud rattling of city trams going by outide his family apartment like they would do back in Oslo, and looked forward to waking up naturally tomorrow morning to the first rays of sun rather than to the artificial light of the streetlamp that glared through his window from outside. He could hear Karoliina clattering around upstairs in the kitchen, the running water trickling through the pipes in the wall from Timo’s shower, and the pitter patter of Hana’s little clawed feet on the floorboards. All that was missing was the sound of Petteri outside tinkering away with the tractor or one of his many rally cars, but Sigurd was sure that in the days to come he’d soon hear it once more. 

Letting out a content sigh, Sigurd let himself relax into the bed. He was home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I'm really into this fic, and I _loved_ writing this chapter. I really hope you like how I've written Timo and Sig here, but I totally get if you think they're a little different, and to be honest they're supposed to be slightly ooc. They're both teens that get up to mischief together, and both the boys are completely different around each other than they are with other people as you'll see as the story unfolds. 
> 
> Also, I've tried my best to make the finnish words and cultural things in the fic flow as best as I can, and if there's a couple of sentences where Timo speaks and it's not quite right phrasing or tense wise, it's meant to be that way :') the boy is a rural farmhands' son and he literally only speaks English around Sigurd. Karoliina on the other hand has her own backstory as to why her English is so good. Heh, you'll see. 
> 
> But yeah, I really hope you enjoy this story, I'm really really looking forward to writing it for you all.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> -lumassen x


	3. Kohtalon Oma

Even in the heat of summer, Timo still preferred a scalding hot shower. The water ran over his face as he stepped forward and looked up into the spray, and he stood for a moment with his eyes closed until it was too hot to bear any longer. He hummed to himself as he grabbed the soap and while he scrubbed himself clean, then once he was done he shut the water off and pulled his towel down from the hook on the wall. 

The mirror had steamed up, so after Timo had wrapped the towel around his waist he opened the bathroom door to allow some air in to clear it. From downstairs he could hear his mother bustling around in the kitchen and could smell the beginnings of the Karelian pie that she was making for dinner drifting through the house. She always liked to put on a show for the Thomassen’s, and the first meal that she would always cook for them when they visited was usually a spread large enough to feed the Finnish army. But of course this year it was different, and there was no Emil or Britt, just Sigurd.

Sigurd had changed so much since they’d last seen each other. 

He was tall now, and Timo couldn’t help but notice that his voice, though still light and breathy, had gotten deeper. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he kept in touch with Sigurd regularly over social media and video calls then Timo wasn’t sure that he would have recognised Sigurd at the airport as quickly as he did. The weedy 15 year old that he’d mucked about with the summer before last was long gone, and instead Sigurd was slowly becoming a man now. They both were. 

Now that the mirror had cleared, Timo leant over the sink and peered at his reflection. When looking at him it wasn’t really noticeable, but as Timo ran his finger over his chin and top lip it scratched against fine blond stubble. If he grew it out then it was patchy and a funny ginger colour since his hair was so pale, so as much as Timo would love to grow facial hair out to try to draw attention away from his round baby-face, it just looked silly. 

He spent a couple of minutes fussing over his face and looking at it from different angles. Compared to Sigurd he hadn’t changed at all, really. He was still as short as he was when he was 14, the only difference now was that he was just _heavier_.

Sighing as he flicked the light off and leaving the en-suite bathroom in darkness, Timo crossed his bedroom and pulled out a clean t-shirt from the drawer by his bed and slipped it on over his head, cringing a little as it stuck to the dampness across his back from the shower. Then he got dressed back into the same sweatpants and plaid shirt he was wearing earlier and tossed his towel into the hamper. Just as he was gathering his phone and his keys and shoving them in his pocket, Hana appeared at the top of the stairs. 

“C’mere girl, my little _kukkamuna_.” Timo smiled at her and bent down as she scampered across the room to him, rolling over the moment she reached his feet asking for him to scratch her belly. He didn’t need convincing, and knelt on the rug in the middle of his room, running his hands through her fluffy fur and watched as her eyes closed in content, her tongue lolling out of her mouth to one side. Timo had gotten Hana for his birthday the year the Thomassen’s had first come to stay, and like Timo and Sigurd she’d gotten older too. She was 9 now, and in her old age her vision was declining as well as her hearing, and sometimes when Timo was out walking her through the fields he found that he had to shout extra loud now when he needed to call her back to him if she strayed too far in front. 

He fussed over Hana for a little while longer until she got fed up and wandered off back downstairs. Once Timo had dragged a brush through his damp hair he followed her, then down one more flight of stairs to the basement. 

The sauna and laundry room was to the right at the bottom of the staircase, and what was now Sigurds room was to the left. The door was wide open, and Timo found Sigurd lounging on the bed with his phone held out in front of him at face height, and once he entered the room Timo could hear the chipper sounding Norwegian language, and then voices of Britt and Emil coming from it. 

“Ah, here he is,” Sigurd switched to English upon catching sight of Timo in the doorway and tilted his phone so that it was facing Timo.

“Hi Timo honey! How are you?” Britt, Sigurd’s mother, exclaimed as she saw him, and Timo waved cheerfully at the screen as he flopped down on the bed beside Sigurd when he turned the phone back toward him, and Timo shuffled closer so that he could squeeze into the frame with Sigurd.

“I’m okay thank you, Ms Thomassen, but I miss you! It’s not the same without you here!” he said, then watched the pixelated image of Britt on the screen as she laughed.

“I’ll have to come and visit soon with Emil too, but you boys have fun this summer, okay?” 

They continued to chat for a little while, Emil asked Sigurd to bring him back some fazer chocolate and Timo discussed brief plans of how he planned to spend the summer with Sigurd to Britt before they said their goodbyes and hung up.

“I didn’t realise how much you shout when you’re on a video call ‘cause I’m usually on the other end of it.” Sigurd said with a laugh as he stood up from the bed and slid his phone into his back pocket.

“What? Do I really? I didn’t think I did!” Timo protested as he followed Sigurd out of the room and up the stairs. 

“Anyway, I didn’t mean to, sorry.” he grinned apologetically then took his boilersuit down from where it was hanging on the wall by the door beside his fathers. 

“You can just borrow my spare boots as usual, they should be in that pile somewhere.” 

While Sigurd searched the pile of shoes for the left boot of the spare pair, Timo leant against the wall to steady himself as he put the boilersuit on one leg at a time then zipped it up. It was still a little muddy from this morning when he’d got up early to feed the cows, so he made a mental note to put it in the wash as soon as they got back for dinner so that it would be clean and dry for tomorrow. 

“Uh, Tim, these boots don’t fit anymore.” Sigurd mumbled as he hopped around, pulling his foot from the boot, and Timo frowned. 

“They’re a 42 aren’t they? Are you sure you have the right ones?” 

Timo stuck his hand out and motioned for Sigurd to give him the boot, and sure enough when he peered inside 42 was written on the label.

“I wear a 44 now, but ‘cause those boots were always a little big on me I thought they’d still fit.” Sigurd shrugged, and Timo sighed, tossing the boot back onto the pile.

“I guess you can wear Isä’s for now, they should fit.”

Once Sigurd had found a pair of boots that fit, Timo called goodbye to his mother and followed Sigurd out of the door. The sun was still bright in the sky, but long shadows were now starting to stretch across the fields as it lowered. The barn where the cows were kept was just behind Timo’s house, so he led Sigurd around the back of the house along the gravel path. They passed the field where the cows grazed that the barn was in, and Timo noticed that most of the girls were out enjoying the sunshine.

“We installed a new piece of milking equipment since the last time you were here, it’s really clever. It’s automatic, so when the girls come in to eat it triggers the machine and milks them while they’re there. It was expensive though so we don’t have it installed throughout the whole farm, but it saves me and Isä lots of time even though it’s only milking a quarter of the herd!” Timo babbled excitedly as he walked along with Sigurd, who unlike any of his other friends actually was interested in how his family’s farm operated. 

“So have you been doing a little more since you’ve graduated, then?” Sigurd asked, and Timo nodded.

“ _Joo_ , lots actually. Isä put me on the… what’s the word? So I can drive the tractor but if I crash or hurt myself-”

“The insurance?” Sigurd interjected,

“Ah! Yes, the insurance. So yeah, now that I’m on the insurance I mainly bring the girls out in the morning then round them up and get them inside for the night. I don’t mind it in the summer, but in the winter it sucks when it’s dark and cold and there’s snow on the ground.” Timo finished with a laugh, then fiddled with the door of the barn for a moment once they’d reached it. 

He watched as Sigurd’s nose wrinkled a little as they stepped inside and he closed the barn door behind them, but Timo was so used to the smell of the cow shed by now that it didn’t bother him in the slightest. 

To his delight, Mila was in the barn helping herself to the fresh fodder that he’d put out that morning. She was a Finnish Ayrshire cow like the rest of the herd on their farm, white with brown markings, and Timo made a beeline for her, swinging himself up and over the metal fencing and dropped down beside her. 

She turned and lazily licked at his cheek with her huge tongue as he rubbed his hands along her sides then down her nose. 

“Hi Mila,” Sigurd said softly, leaning over the railing so that he too could stroke her, and Timo was pleased that he’d remembered her. 

“So how many do you have now?” he asked once Timo had stopped fussing over Mila, and Timo thought for a moment quickly counting in his head before answering.

“Twenty-seven- _ei_ , twenty-eight! Well, twenty-seven and a half. We’ve had a late pregnancy which was really strange, but Maisy is due to give birth soon which means the little one will be awkwardly between the spring and autumn calving so we might have to help raise it. But I don’t mind, calves are adorable. Oh, it might even be born while you’re here!” Timo rambled, clapping his hands excitedly as Sigurd clambered over the fence and dropped down beside him. 

“Which one is Maisy then?” he said, and Timo happily led him out into the field to find her. 

They spent an hour or so wandering the field while Timo told Sigurd all about the farm's plans to expand next winter and renovate one of the old bale stores to a second barn for another herd, and once they were done with the cows Timo took Sigurd over to the bale store in question. The roof tiles were falling off on one side, but for now it was still watertight. The hay smelt sweet in the summer heat, and dust rose up into the air, catching in the sunlight the streamed in as Timo lay back onto one of the rectangular fodder bales. Sigurd remained standing and pointed up toward the rafters. 

“Hey, is our hideout still up there?” he said, looking up above them. From where Timo was lying back on the hay bale, the wooden mezzanine that Sigurd was talking about was directly above him and his eye followed the ladder leading up to it. 

After about the 3rd or 4th year that Sigurd had stayed with them and they began to grow inseparable, one afternoon he and Timo had made a den up in the rafters of the bale store one day to hide from Emil who insisted on following them around everywhere. They were just on the cusp of becoming teenagers back then, and as much as Sigurd loved his little brother, sometimes he needed a little break from childish games, so Timo brought him up to the mezzanine and they’d hidden away up there for hours that afternoon. 

Every year since they’d disappear up there together when they wanted to get away from the world for a while, and even last year while Sigurd wasn’t here, Timo had still taken himself up there when he was sad or needed to be alone for a little while. But he wouldn’t tell Sigurd that.

“I don't know. I haven’t been up there since the last time you were here.” Timo said with a slight shrug as he picked up a loose piece of hay and tied knots in it absentmindedly. 

“Wanna go up?” Sigurd looked at him with a slight grin, and before Timo could answer he already had his foot on the bottom rung of the ladder. 

“Ah! Are you sure it’s safe? The wood might be rotting, this barn is really old now, Sig!” he called after Sigurd, scrambling up from where he was laying on the bale and stood at the foot of the ladders, watching as Sigurd reached the top and disappeared from sight. He could hear him walking around and the floorboards creaked beneath him, and Timo only hoped that he hadn’t left anything up there that would give away the fact that he had been up several times by himself.

“It’s safe, you can come up.” Sigurd said, leaning over the wooden railing and peering down at Timo before he disappeared again. 

Kicking off his heavy boots, Timo climbed the ladder in just his socks then took Sigurd’s hand that he offered toward him once he reached the top as he held it out toward him and let him pull him up. 

The roof was low now that they were so close to the rafters, and Sigurd had to stoop his shoulders and hold his head down so that it didn’t hit the beams that supported the barn.

“Even up here is the same, it’s like nothing has changed.”

Sigurd’s tone was soft as he looked around, then he smiled and ran his finger over one of the wooden planks in the railing, 

“Look, I forgot that we did this.” he said, looking at Timo over his shoulder and beckoned him over. Following where Sigurd was pointing with his eye, Timo gasped when he noticed the faint carving in the wood just by his fingertip.

“ _ST_ and _TJV_ ,” he whispered as he looked at the initials carved into the old wood.

“You always used to use your middle initial ‘cause you hated that without it your initials were ‘ _TV_ ’.” Sigurd chuckled, elbowing Timo gently in the ribs, “D’ya still do that?” 

“No, of course not, I’m not a silly kid anymore.” he protested, and Sigurd held his hands up in innocence,

“I never said it was silly!” he said through his smile, shaking his head a little.

Before Sigurd could poke around too much, Timo started to climb back down the ladder,

“Whatever, we should be getting back home. Äiti said dinner at seven but she’ll expect us to have started _eating_ by seven.” 

Once on the ground again, Timo shoved his feet back into his boots and waited for Sigurd to climb down too before they set off back to the house. 

Despite not seeing Sigurd for so long, hanging out with him again was so easy, and Timo couldn’t help but notice how much more at ease he felt now that he was here again. Since graduating from school Timo hadn’t seen much of his school friends, yet he and Sigurd would talk nearly every day whether it was over text messages or a voice call. But none of that compared to having his best friend here beside him in the flesh; to hug, to tease, to spend every waking hour with. His home suddenly felt more complete whenever Sigurd was here.

Hana was asleep on the porch enjoying the last rays of summer sun when the boys arrived back at the house and kicked their muddy boots off at the door, leaving them outside as they stepped through the threshold and into the hall.

“Timo? _Että suä_?” (Is that you?) Timo’s mother called from the kitchen once he’d slammed the front door closed.

“ _Joo, Äiti_!” (yeah, mum) he called back, slipping out of his boilersuit and leaving it in a heap by the stairs leading down to the basement to remind himself to put it in the laundry basket later. 

The smells of dinner filled every inch of the house, and even despite the Hesburger they’d eaten on the bus Timo was still hungry. He followed Sigurd through to the kitchen to find his mother vigorously stirring a pot on the stove. 

“ _Muru,_ stir this jam for me, would you? And don’t stick your grubby finger in it!” Karoliina scolded Timo for something that she knew he’d do even before handing him the wooden spoon, and Timo took over stirring while his mother addressed Sigurd.

“Sigurd, can you set the table please? Utensils are in the same draw they’ve always been in.” she said, then Timo watched her as she took a jug of brown sauce out of the microwave that she always insisted on making even though no one ever touched it during mealtime.

The large solid wood table in the middle of the kitchen was covered in food, everything from the Karelian pie that Timo had been looking forward to since earlier this afternoon to the Runebergintorttu that they'd tuck into for desert - a traditional dish from Porvoo that Timo knew Sigurd loved. 

The blueberry jam bubbled away in the pot as Timo stirred it, watching it thicken and turn an even deeper shade of purple as it did so until his mother came back to take the spoon from him.

"Go sit down now, _muru-poika_ , you boys start eating. Your father's going to be a bit late." she mumbled against the top of his head as she kissed it lightly, and Timo just nodded with a smile, dragging out a chair and joining Sigurd at the table.

It felt a little odd to only have four chairs set out as opposed to the usual six whenever Britt and Emil were here too, especially as the sheer amount of food that Timo's mother had made was the same as it always was even if there were only four of them. Timo couldn't complain though, it would just mean that the fridge would be full with delicious left-overs for a little longer than usual. 

“Isä’s running late, so we can start.” Timo relayed what his mother had told him to Sigurd while simultaneously reaching over to help himself to some meatballs and mashed potato, then passed the bowl to Sigurd when he was finished with it. 

The three chatted between themselves while Timo and Sigurd began their meal and Karoliina added the finishing touches to the spread on the table. She told Sigurd about her latest sewing project, and Timo listened happily while his mother and his best friend talked about textiles and needlework passionately. 

Just as Karoliina sat down at the table and started at her own plate of food the front door opened and closed and heavy footsteps could be heard in the hall. The conversation quietened, then Petteri poked his head around the door-frame.

“Ah, _aloitit. Hyvä.”_ (Ah, you started. Good.) he said simply with a curt nod before pulling out the last chair and sitting at the table.

His hands were blackened with engine oil and he had a couple of black smudges on his denim shirt. If it were anyone other than Sigurd sitting at the dining table then Timo would have been a little embarrassed about the fact that his father didn’t think to wash his hands before eating after spending the last couple of hours tinkering with rally cars, but Sigurd was more than used the Petteri by now.

“Sigurd. Nice to meet you again.” he patted Sigurd on the shoulder, greeting him in his gruff voice and broken English, then reached over and took the bowl of mashed potato from him as it did the rounds around the table. 

“Your hair is long now. Like a girl.” 

Petteri chuckled to himself, catching Timo’s eye who forced a laugh at his father’s old-fashioned joke then looked at Sigurd who thankfully just shook his head with an amused smile on his lips and returned his attention to his food. 

Timo’s parents spoke through their meal to each other in Finnish, while Timo chatted to Sigurd about what they planned to do this weekend once he had some free time away from the farm. 

“We could go down to the lake if you wanted. They fixed the picnic table too so we could take some lunch too.” Timo suggested between mouthfuls, and Sigurd looked puzzled,

“Why, what happened to it so it needed to be fixed?” he said, pausing with his fork half way to his mouth.

“Someone set it on fire last summer. By accident though! They put one of those disposable barbecues on it and it caught fire. Isä had to run down with some buckets of water to put it out when we saw the smoke, huh, Isä?”

Timo laughed at the tale, then turned and addressed his father who looked up from his plate.

“ _Mitä_?” (What?)

“I’m telling Sigurd about the picnic bench. _Penkki?”_ (Bench?)

_“Ahh, Penkki! Joo!”_

When Petteri realised what Timo was talking about a large grin crossed his face and he slammed his hand down on the table,

“It was big, huge flames! I putted the water on it. It was your girlfriend, _poikaseni_ , I know this.” 

Tapping his finger against the side of his nose, Petteri winked at Timo and he shot a glance at Sigurd who’s brows were raised.

“ _Hän_ **_ei_ ** _ole tyttöystäväni, Isä, okei_ ?” (She’s _not_ my girlfriend, Dad, okay?) Timo hissed, glaring across the table at his father who just laughed, and Timo felt his mother nudge him under the table, her lips pursed. 

“You got a girlfriend?” Sigurd asked a little timidly, breaking the silence that had fallen over the dining table, and Timo dropped his fork onto his plate and dragged his hand over his face.

“ _Ei_ \- No, I don’t have a girlfriend. Just ignore Isä, he thinks he’s being funny.” he sighed, and although Sigurd nodded and gave him an apologetic smile, Timo could tell that he was still curious. 

For the rest of dinner, Timo ate in his own silence while he listened to the conversation that flowed between his mother and Sigurd, his father interjecting every now and again only catching half of the conversation with his poor English skills until their plates were clear and all four of them leant back in their chairs; stuffed. 

“Thank you, Karol, that was wonderful as always.” Sigurd said as Karoliina got up from the table and began to clear their plates. Timo jumped up to help before Sigurd could, not wanting to be left with his father for the time being. 

“You’re welcome, honey. Now, why don’t you go through into the living room and choose a movie? We’ll clean up in here then join you soon.” Karoliina smiled kindly at Sigurd, nodding toward the living room, then glanced at Timo while waiting for Sigurd and Petteri to take themselves off and out of the kitchen. 

Only once they were out of sight and earshot and Timo had started to run water into the sink did Karoliina slip her arm around her son’s shoulders and pull him close for a little sideways hug.

“You know your father is harmless, right? Just take what he says with a pinch of salt.” she murmured, speaking lowly in Finnish.

Timo looked up at her, his brows furrowed,

“Is he, Mum? You know why he keeps joking that Linnea is my girlfriend, because he wants it to be true. He’s thinking about the farm more than he is me.” 

Dunking his hands into the dish-soap suds, Timo shook his head and scrubbed at a plate beneath the water.

“Well, if it’s bothering you sweetheart then I’ll talk to him, alright? He loves you very much, he just has his own way of showing it.” 

Karoliina gave Timo’s shoulder one more squeeze before she let go and lifted the trash bag from the bin and stooped over it to tie it up.

“I’m going to take this trash out then wrap up the leftovers and put them away. Once we’re done in here we’ll go and join Sigurd and your father, and I promise I’ll talk to him tomorrow, okay darling?”

Not lifting his eyes from the sink, Timo just hummed in response, then let out an exasperated sigh once the front door had closed behind his mother and he was left alone in the kitchen. The sound of Sigurd laughing at what was no doubt another one of his father’s bad jokes drifted in from the living room. 

When he was little, he’d always talk with Sigurd about what life would be like when they were older, and without realising it they spent most of their childhood wishing it away. Now that he _was_ older, Timo would do anything to turn back the clock and be a kid again. But perhaps this summer wouldn’t be so bad; he had his best friend back by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaahhhh I really hope that this chapter reads okay! I was toying with the idea of writing this from both Timo and Sigurd's POV for a long time, and eventually I decided to go with it. This story is such a fun one to write, and I'm really enjoying it. Hopefully it's coming across with the vibes that I want it to lmao
> 
> Also, apologies for the really bad Finnish for anyone who's a native speaker 😭 I really tried my best to research and avoided Google translate as much as I could!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading as always!
> 
> Much love, lumassen x


	4. My Timo

Dull morning light streamed in through the window above Sigurd’s bed, picking up particles of lint that were disturbed as he sat up and rubbed his bleary eyes. He watched as the dust danced through the air, and felt his feet warming beneath the duvet as the sliver of sunlight poured onto the end of the bed. It took Sigurd a moment to remember where he was at first as he blinked at his surroundings, but then he laid back down again with a content sigh when he realised, his head sinking back into the pillow with a soft thump. 

The room was stuffy, just as Timo had warned, and a small damp patch had started to form at the small of Sigurd’s back. He ought to get up and take a shower, but instead Sigurd just listened for a moment, his eyes closed, to the birds chirping in the trees in the woodland surrounding the farm, and the distant sound of a tractor plowing the fields. He lay there until the loud scampering of Hanatamago’s feet on the floorboard of the living room upstairs broke the peace. 

Kicking off the duvet and sitting up a little, Sigurd reached beneath his pillow and retrieved his phone, pleased by the thought that today was the first of what would be many days to come where he didn’t have to set an alarm, or had nowhere particularly important to be.

Propping his elbows on the mattress at either side of him, Sigurd raised his phone and unlocked it, glancing at the time. 9:06am. He knew well enough by now that Timo wasn’t an early riser, and that it was tough to get him out of his bed until at least 9:30am, especially during summer holidays. So to pass a little time before he would get up to go and wake him for breakfast, Sigurd flipped through his apps until he found the one he was looking for. 

He’d long since stopped getting daily progress and streak reminders, and hadn’t practiced any of his Finnish since at least last summer when he found out that he wouldn’t be seeing the Väinämöinen’s that year. 

“ _Welcome back thomassen03, it’s been a while! Are you ready for another Finnish lesson?_ ”

The little green cartoon bird on the Duolingo app taunted him, and Sigurd shuffled a little on the bed to get comfortable before tapping on the last lesson he’d taken to refresh his memory. With ease, he ran through greeting phrases, language basics and formalities, speaking into his phone as confidently as he could when prompted, and listening to the words repeated back to him. Even after all these years, Sigurd still wasn’t great at pronunciation, and with every new phrase that he came across he would read it with Timo’s voice in his head, trying to think how he would say it, how his lips would form around his words, how his speech was always more confident and sure of himself when he spoke in his native language compared to his English.

After completing a few recap lessons with no mistakes, Sigurd tapped onto his next checkpoint and waited for the app to load a brand new lesson.

_‘Translate this sentence: Minä rakastan sinua.’_

Sigurd took a moment to read the sentence over and over again, then he felt his face turn a little red as his fingers ran over the keyboard when he realised what it said, and Timo’s voice echoed in his head.

_‘I love you.’_

The cheery ‘correct’ jingle sounded from his phone, and the app loaded the next phrase.

_‘Type what you hear: Milla rakastaa Joni’_

_‘Milla loves Joni.’_

Correct!

‘ _Hard exercise! Type how would you say ‘my boyfriend’ in Finnish:’_

Without a prompt, Sigurd was unsure, and instead racked his brains trying to think of the word that Petteri had used last night when he’d mentioned Timo’s potential girlfriend. He knew that ‘poika’ was ‘boy’ but would it be that literal in Finnish? It wasn’t that way in Norwegian, so perhaps it was different in Finnish too. 

Slowly, Sigurd began to type out ‘poika’, but then stopped and chewed on the inside of his lip, his concentration now lost as he again thought back to last night's conversation over dinner.

_Does Timo really have a girlfriend? Surely he would tell him if he did. But why would his father think so?_

Realising that he was beginning to get flustered, Sigurd decided that he’d spent enough time lazing around and gave up on his Finnish lessons for now. He locked his phone, letting it fall onto the bed as he sat up and swung his legs over the edge. He stretched his arms high above his head while he let out a yawn, and shook his head free of his silly wandering thoughts before standing up and heading for the staircase.

Hanatamago was lay at the top, one paw hanging over the top step. When she spotted Sigurd her tail began to wag furiously and her pink tongue licked at her nose in excitement.

“ _Huomenta,_ (morning) _”_ he greeted her softly with a fond smile, crouching down to sit beside her on the floor for a moment, and instantly she rolled onto her back. Happy to oblige, Sigurd rubbed her belly a couple of times, running his fingers through her masses of curly fur. 

“We should go wake your Isä up, huh? C’mon,” 

Pushing up off the floor, Sigurd patted the side of his thigh and jerked his head, beckoning for Hana to follow him up the second flight of stairs to Timo’s room. 

After dinner last night, Timo had fallen asleep again, this time on the sofa, halfway through the movie, leaving Sigurd to finish watching it slightly awkwardly with just his parents while struggling to keep up in his own tiredness with the english subtitles that flashed up at the bottom of the fast paced Finnish movie. 

Then, when it had finished and Timo’s parents had taken themselves off to bed, Sigurd had gently shaken Timo awake and accepted his sleepy mumbled apologies at falling asleep. Not longer after, he bid him goodnight and trudged upstairs, leaving Sigurd to turn all of the lights off and lock the front door. 

For that reason, he hadn’t yet been up to Timo’s room since he arrived yesterday. When he reached the top of the landing and was met by the closed door he couldn’t help but laugh a little under his breath at the wooden _Winnie the Pooh_ plaque that was still on the front of it reading Timo’s name. 

The floorboards beneath his bare feet creaked a little as he stepped over them and opened the door, but instead of being met by a darkened room with the curtains drawn and a grumpy Finn buried underneath messy piles of blankets, Sigurd instead found the room brightly lit, the curtains drawn, and Timo’s bed neatly made. 

Hanatamago rushed into the room and leapt up onto the bed, sniffing at the pillows and looking around at the empty room as though she was confused too.

Crossing the threshold, Sigurd was hit with a wave of familiarity and nostalgia as he looked around at the all too familiar room, thinking back to the many nights he’d spent with Timo squashed in a single bed that had grown smaller and smaller with each year that passed, sharing secrets beneath the covers and laughing themselves to sleep.

The birdhouse that Sigurd and Timo had watched Petteri hammer into the birch tree closest to Timo’s bedroom window was still there, now weathered and worn, the light blue paint dulled. 

Wandering over to the shelf on the wall, Sigurd gingerly took down a recent framed photograph of Timo and the rest of his ice hockey team, one that he hadn’t seen before, and smiled at Timo’s rambunctious energy as he eye found him sandwiched between the large shoulder pads of his teammates. A bruise was forming under his eye, but that still didn’t stop him from grinning wildly at the camera, his cheeks flushed red and hair plastered to his forehead. 

Setting the photograph back, Sigurd continued to look around the room, the very essence of his best friend captured by the trinkets and treasures that lined the shelves and dresser tops, everything from the raggedy old stuffed Moomin on his bed to the collection of pinecones that he treasured so much perfectly presented in a box on his side table. It was almost as though time had stood still, and the two years that they’d spent apart hadn’t happened. And that would’ve been true if Sigurd’s attention hadn’t been caught by the military uniform that was hanging up on the edge of Timo’s wardrobe door.

His breath caught a little in his throat as he looked at it, suddenly reminded that this winter Timo would be conscripted, and they were to be without contact with each other for a few months on end for the first time in their long friendship. 

Swallowing the lump that had involuntarily formed in his throat, Sigurd began to cross the room to take a closer look at the uniform when he was startled by the bedroom door opening.

“ _M_ _uru, toin sinulle teetä_ \- Oh! Sigurd!”

Karoliina stopped in the doorway from where she’d bustled into the room, a tray in her grasp with a piece of toast on it and a cup of tea and a look of surprise on her face.

“Sorry to disturb you, but I heard footsteps up here and I thought my Timo was back. What are you doing up here?” she questioned, though there was nothing but genuine curiosity in her tone.

Sigurd watched as Karoliina’s gaze flickered between himself and Timo’s uniform that he was inches away from, a hand still outstretched toward it, for some reason feeling like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t, or that she thought he was snooping. But her expression then softened into what could only be described as a look of pity, and her brows knitted. Her lips parted again as though she was going to comment on the uniform as her gaze lingered on it, but her words went unsaid as she pursed them closed again.

Sigurd cleared his throat. 

“Oh, um, good morning Karol- I was just coming to wake Timo up. Do you, uh, know where he is? He’s usually still asleep…”

Sigurd began, but soon trailed off when Karoliina sighed and entered further into the room and set the tea tray down on the dresser beside her. 

“He’s out with the girls. He’s taken on more responsibility on the farm lately now that he’s left school, so he’s up starting work early most mornings now.” 

“Oh, I didn’t realise.” Sigurd dropped his hand back down by his side, trying to think if Timo had mentioned this to him yesterday. 

Karoliina laughed a little as she walked over to the bed and sat down, patting the space beside her. 

“Don’t look so sorry, you weren’t to know, though I’m a little surprised that Timo didn’t tell you or ask you to go out with him to see them.” she said, then shook her head fondly, “that boy, honestly.”

Sigurd sank down onto Timo’s bed beside Karoliina and they both watched as Hanatamago huffed and leapt down, annoyed that she no longer had it all to herself. 

“Have you settled back in alright?” Karoliina spoke up again after a couple minutes of silence had passed and Hana had disappeared back downstairs.

Sigurd broke away from where he’d been staring after her and turned to face Timo’s mother, a small smile spreading across his face,

“Just fine, thank you Karol.”

“And your room? It’s not too hot, is it?”

Sigurd was close to admitting that it was a little, remembering the fact that he would probably need to shower daily now, but on a quick second thought didn’t think it worth worrying Karoliina about it. Because she would worry; too much for her own good.

“Nope, it’s all good.” he said, and she seemed to let out another small sigh, her shoulders relaxing a little.

“I’m glad.” she said, then paused to smooth out the wrinkles in her skirt, “Well, I brought that tea and toast up for my Timo, he’s always hungry when he comes back after an early start, but you might as well have it now. I’ll go make some more.” 

Patting Sigurd’s shoulder as she stood up, Karoliina took her leave, glancing at Sigurd once more and nodding at the tea tray as she left the room, clearly eager for him to have some breakfast.

“Ah, _kiiti_! (thanks!)” Sigurd called after her, then he too stood up from the bed and went to pick up the tray to take it downstairs, not wanting to spend too much time in Timo’s room without him. 

The mug on the tray he knew to be Timo’s favourite, a small porcelain one with wild bears printed on it, and the toast was cut the way he’d always eaten it, sliced into little triangles with one half buttered, the other covered in blueberry jam. But there was an addition to the tea tray that was new. A small foil packet of pills with half of it’s contents already empty was tucked beneath the rim of the plate of toast.

Curious, Sigurd picked them up and squinted at the lettering printed on the packet.

“ _Am-i-trip-tyline_. Amitriptyline.” he mumbled to himself, working out the pronunciation as his face drew into a frown. 

He stood for a moment just looking at the packet until he sighed and put them back onto the tray. Part of him wanted to keep them to give to Timo himself, selfishly prompting a conversation about what they were for, but it wasn’t any of his business, and Sigurd mentally scolded himself for even letting the thought cross his mind. Besides, they might not be his anyway. They could be for Karoliina, and she could have easily left them on the tray by mistake.

Curling his fingers through the handles of the tea tray, Sigurd picked it up carefully and pulled the door to Timo’s bedroom closed again behind him with his foot the best he could before he made his way back downstairs. 

Once at the foot of the stairs, the smell of breakfast began to reach Sigurd from the kitchen. Coffee was brewing, and the smoky smell turned out to be bacon sizzling away in a pan when Sigurd peered into the room. Karoliina had her back turned to him, her attention focused on her cooking, and so carefully Sigurd placed a hand flat underneath the tray to support it and with the other he took the pills. 

Leaning forward and holding his breath in hopes that she wouldn’t turn around and see him, Sigurd slid them slowly onto the counter beside the fresh mug of tea that was steeping beside an empty plate, most likely meant for Timo. He was just about to let go of them when he was startled again a second time by the front door slamming closed.

“ _Moi, Muumio -_ Ah, Hi Sigurd!” Timo began cheerfully as he appeared in the kitchen, but as Sigurd turned over his shoulder to look at him he watched his face turn to stone when he caught sight of the pill packet still within Sigurd’s grasp.

Timo stared at him coldly for a moment, then his gaze flickered to his mother who’d now turned away from the stove, a look of hurt flashing across his features.

“What’s he doing with those?” he demanded, jerking his head toward Sigurd and talking as though he wasn’t in the room. 

“Nothing, honey, I just left them upstairs that's all. Sigurd was just bringing them for me-” Karoliina hurried to explain, but Timo had already turned his attention back to Sigurd,

“You were in my room? Why?” he once again demanded.

Putting the tea tray down onto the kitchen table, Sigurd straightened up and scoffed,

“Coming to wake you up like always, what else? I didn’t know you wouldn’t be in there.”

At this, Timo flapped, not knowing what to say or how to retort. He had mud streaked down his cheek and his overalls were dirty. A piece of hay was stuck in his hair. Sigurd was more than used to Timo’s short temper by now, but he never usually lost it this quickly.

“You know, it doesn’t matter. Whatever. I’m going for a shower.” Timo said eventually, then turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. 

Karoliina exhaled sharply and pushed a stray hair back into her up-do, 

“Sorry, Sig. He’s just tired.” she leaned her weight against the counter, “He’ll be fine in 30 minutes.

Her smile was strained, but still a smile nonetheless. Sigurd nodded and smiled back weakly then quickly left the kitchen and took himself back down to the basement. He could hear the water trickling through the pipes from Timo’s shower as he flopped back onto his bed. 

Rolling onto his back, Sigurd laid in the same position he’d been in less than an hour ago and stared up at the ceiling. He brought a hand to his mouth and bit absentmindedly at the ragged edges of his fingernail and listened to the deep voice of Petteri who’d also just come home resonating through the house. His words were so muffled that even if he had been speaking English Sigurd still wouldn’t be able to make out what he was saying, so instead of trying to eavesdrop he reached for his phone once more. 

Oslo was an hour behind Askola, and Emil would probably only just be waking up. So sure enough, when Sigurd checked his notifications he had a message from him. It was a simple ‘good morning, how are you’ text, but Sigurd spent the next 20 minutes chatting back and forth with him, telling him all about how nice it had been seeing the farm again yesterday and reading Emil’s responses. Without explicitly saying so, Sigurd could tell that Emil missed him a little from the wording of his messages and how he wasn’t going into much detail about what he’d been up to. 

He was just about to suggest a video call when there was a soft rapping of knuckles against the open door to his room. Peering over the top of his phone, Sigurd caught Timo’s eye from where he was standing in the doorway, his hair damp and expression apologetic.

“Can I come in?” he asked, bringing his hand away from the door and fiddled with the end of his t-shirt.

Sitting up, Sigurd shook his head,

“Course you can, ya don’t have to ask,” he said, then laughed a little “this is your house.” 

At his word, Timo hurried into the room and sank down onto the end of the bed, pulling his legs up and crossed them beneath him.

“I know, but it’s your house too, pretty much.”

The air between the two boys was slightly awkward as Sigurd quickly finished sending his text while Timo waited in silence for him to do so. Then, when he was done, Sigurd put his phone onto the side table beside the bed and plugged it in to charge.

“You won’t make a big deal about it… will you?” Timo mumbled, not meeting Sigurd’s gaze and instead kept his eyes downcast.

“About what?” Sigurd blinked, confused.

Timo sat back and deflated against the wall in a slump.

“You know what I mean, Siggy. The meds.”

Sigurd’s lips formed a soft ‘ _o_ ’. 

“Oh yeah, of course. No, I won’t make a big deal out of it. I promise. But… you’re not sick, are you?” Sigurd pressed, leaning over on the bed so that he was looking up into Timo’s face and finally met his gaze. 

“No, I’m not sick. Not exactly. Look, I don’t really wanna talk about it, if that’s okay. I just thought it would be awkward if I didn’t mention it.” 

Sigurd couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt well inside him at the thought that Timo wanted to keep something from him. They always shared everything; there were no secrets.

Despite his inner turmoil, Sigurd smiled at his friend and placed a hand over his knee.

“That’s fine. We don’t have to talk about it. Just as long as you’re okay.”

The forlorn look on Timo’s face vanished as it was replaced by his usual cheery smile, and he sat up straighter against the wall. 

“I am now that you’re here. Now c’mon, I’m starving, and I wanna take you down to the village later.”

Scrambling off the bed, Timo bounded from the room and began up the stairs leaving Sigurd alone for a moment. 

A feeling of change now hung in the air, and though Sigurd told himself it was probably nothing, he couldn’t help but feel as though something was suddenly different. When he first arrived back at the place he could most happily call home last night he could confidently say that it was as though nothing had changed at all, but now he wasn’t so sure.

“Siggy, are you coming or what? The toast is getting cold!”

Timo’s voice boomed through the house from upstairs, and Sigurd stood up from the bed. He gave his whole body a shake. Things were bound to change, there was nothing he could do about it except kick back and enjoy another lazy summer spent with his best friend while they both still could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhh I'm not sure about this chapter but here we are anyway :') sorry its a little short, but I hope you enjoy it still ^^
> 
> Oh and happy new year!
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> -lumassen x


	5. Longing & Belonging

The sun was just starting to rise over the fields as the first drips of coffee fell to the bottom of the pot. 

It was 5am, and Timo stifled a yawn as he leant against the counter and stared out of the window, watching as a breeze rippled through the trees at the woodland edge surrounding them. 

Yesterday he’d spent the day with Sigurd wandering the village while they shared lemon ice cream from the new parlour that had opened last summer made with the milk from his girls and enjoyed the opportunity to get away from the farm for a while. But it seemed that the day passed in the blink of an eye, and before he knew it it was time for sauna, dinner, then bed; ready to be up early again the next morning. 

Tearing his eyes away from the window, Timo turned to find his father appear in the doorway, hunched over as he pulled his foot into his boot,

“C’mon Timo-Johan, we should get going.” he beckoned, and Timo glanced at the coffee machine that wasn’t even a quarter full yet with an inward sigh. Leaving his flask empty on the side with no time to wait for the machine to be done, he pushed off the counter and followed Petteri into the yard. 

The air was warm and close even despite it being so early, and Timo knew that it was going to be stifling later on, perfect for the trip to the lake he had planned with Sigurd and the thought of it put a spring in Timo’s step.

“It’s going to be hot this week, so the field needs ploughing again. The ground will be dry.” Petteri said as he reached into the pocket of his overalls and pulled out a set of keys, and Timo flinched a little as he caught them when he tossed them at him,

“I’m going to go and unload the barn ready for the new bales. When you’re done with the field can you go through the ledgers?”

Looping his finger through the keyring, Timo spun the set of keys absentmindedly as he pulled a face,

“But Dad, I was going to finish early today to go to the lake with Sigurd. The ledgers take hours, and we-” he began, but was interrupted when Petteri sighed heavily,

“You should get used to working longer days, son. You can go to the lake later, the ledgers are important.”

Then, without waiting for Timo to respond, Petteri turned on his heel and took his leave. 

“ _Shit._ ” Timo muttered as he trudged over to the tractor and kicked the tyre that was nearly as big as himself with his boot stubbornly, then climbed up and sank into the seat. Now that he was up high, Timo leaned his chin in his palm and elbows on the steering wheel as he looked around at the crumbling barn, the shed full of rusty old rally cars, and his home. Everything around him was all his entire life had been, and as much as he loved the farm and his family, he couldn’t help but feel a little weighed down at the thought that it’s probably all he would ever know. 

Turning the keys in the ignition, Timo listened as the engine chugged and choked, but didn’t start. With an exasperated eye roll, Timo jumped down and walked around to the engine at the back of the tractor and opened it up, then frowned at the leaking fuel pipe as it dripped fluid onto the gravel beneath.

He took a moment to prop open the hood of the engine cover, then headed to the garage. His hands were already black by the time he’d rummaged around for the toolbox before he’d even started patching up the crack in the pipe. The pink of his tongue poked out in concentration as he managed to stop the leak, and his focus was only broken when he heard the front door to the house close and the crunch of someone making their way toward him across the gravel caused him to peer out from within the engine. It was Sigurd.

"Hey, you forgot this, I noticed the pot was full and your flask was on the side, so I filled it for you." 

Sigurd handed Timo his flask with a shy smile, then pulled his dressing gown further up into his shoulder when it began to slip.

His hair was a mess, the low morning sun shone through the pale blond curls like a halo of a coffee-bringing saviour, and he was still in his pyjamas as he hobbled from one foot to the other, the gravel probably sharp under his bare feet.

“Thank you!” Timo said with a wide smile as he took the flask from Sigurd and clipped it to the belt loop on his overalls, then wiped his hands on the front of them. Though he was surprised to see Sigurd, Timo wasn't at all complaining, his spirits suddenly lifted a little at the presence of his best friend,

“What are you doing up so early?”

Sigurd shrugged and tucked an unruly strand of hair behind his ear,

“The sun woke me up and I couldn't get back to sleep. Emil and Mom aren't awake yet for me to call, so I guess I just thought I'd see what you were up to.”

Judging by the look on Sigurd’s face, Timo could tell that he probably felt a little awkward, and he felt guilty that Sig had come all this way to hang out for the summer only for Timo to be so busy with the farm.

“Well, I was just going to plough the field.” Timo nodded toward the tractor, and watched as Sigurd let his eyes wander over it,

“Uh, you can come with me if you want? You don’t have to, but seeing as you’re awake…” he offered, then trailed off as he bent down slowly to pick up the toolbox but didn’t take his eyes off Sigurd, waiting for his reaction to the suggestion.

“On that?” Sigurd asked, his gaze flickering between Timo and the tractor, and Timo nodded hesitantly.

Sigurd was quiet for a moment, until a smirk appeared on his lips,

“Only if you let me have a go.”

No answer was needed as Timo grinned and climbed up again atop the tractor, placing the toolbox behind the seat then patted the empty space beside him.

Budging up as far as he could without falling off the other side, Timo made room for Sigurd before leaning over and extending a hand to help him up.

“It’s a good job one of us stayed a skinny string bean, huh?” he teased as Sigurd perched on the edge of the seat, shoulder to shoulder, and Timo felt his light laughter as he shook his head,

“You say that as if you were ever a string bean.” Sigurd said, and Timo shot him a look,

“Do you want to drive the tractor or not?” he threatened, and Sigurd pursed his lips tightly as he nodded enthusiastically, and Timo accepted the nonverbal apology as he successfully started the engine.

The shift stick crunched as Timo put the tractor into gear, then slowly accelerated and began down the dirt track away from the house and toward the barley field.

Sigurd was quiet as they bumped along, and Timo watched out the corner of his eye with the occasional glance as Sig looked around at the farm with a content look on his face, the light breeze blowing his hair around his face.

“So what are you ploughing for?” he asked after a while, and Timo turned his attention back to the nearing field ahead,

“To stop the ground from getting hard and dry with the heat. We'll be sowing the barley soon and we need to keep on top of the soil maintenance,” Timo said as they reached the field then slowed down as he took his hand from the stick shift to lower the plough that the tractor was pulling,

“Here, watch.”

Sigurd turned in his seat and watched as Timo lowered the plough into the soil at the push of a button. As Timo then drove forward, the soil beneath the plough began to turn over into neat, piled rows.

“We have to do it twice, once in one direction then back again in the other direction.”

Timo continued to explain the process, glancing at Sigurd every now and again as he watched the drag of the soil.

“Sorry, it’s a bit tedious…” he apologised after a little while once three rows had been ploughed, but Sigurd just looked up with a small smile,

“It’s not tedious, it’s cool.” 

Suddenly with a small sense of pride welling in his chest at Sigurd’s interest in his farm and his work, Timo pulled his shoulders back and continued to plough the field until he was about half way finished, a comfortable silence between them filled only by the rumble of the tractor.

Then, once he’d finished the row that he was doing, Timo brought the tractor to a stop at the edge of the field and turned to Sigurd,

“Okay, I think it’s your turn now!” Timo’s grin was cheerful as he patted the steering wheel, but then his face fell when he remembered that Sigurd was still only in his pyjamas,

“Ah, but you don’t have any shoes on.” he deadpanned.

Sigurd suddenly looked disheartened as he glanced at the mud-caked pedals beneath the steering wheel,

“Oh, yeah.” he said quietly, and Timo hurried to continue,

“But hey, it’s fine! Look, why don’t I operate the pedals and you just steer?” 

Peering up into Sigurd’s downcast face, Timo watched as his smile returned as he nodded and placed one hand on the steering wheel.

Timo then leaned back and talked Sigurd through the controls on the dashboard for the plough, but soon realised when he tried to accelerate and found that the tractor was veering off to the left too much that Sigurd couldn’t steer properly let alone operate the plough from where he was leaning over.

“Here, let me budge over a little more so that you can-“

“Ow, Timo, you stood on my toe!” Sigurd cried, wincing a little as he brought his foot up onto the seat and closed his hand around his pinkie,

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to! Are you okay?” Timo gushed, stopping the tractor altogether and putting the handbrake on, but Sigurd just shook his head,

“I’m fine, but you should just drive. Don’t let me distract you.” He said, putting his foot back down and gave Timo a reassuring smile, but Timo was determined to deliver his promise,

“No, it’s fine, what if,” he paused to scoot back further in his seat, “uh, you sat in front of me?” 

Timo patted the space on the seat between his legs, and Sigurd looked at him through loose curls that tumbled over his face.

“Is that okay?” he asked, his face reddening a little, and Timo cleared his throat as he laughed a little awkwardly,

“Of course it is! You’re my best friend, plus you’ll be doing my job for me, so I can just sit back and relax.” he rambled, then pushed the seat back on it’s rail as far it would go to allow Sigurd to fit between his legs in front of him as he parted his knees. 

As Sigurd stood up to move across and gingerly sat down in the space between Timo’s thighs, Timo felt his heart hammering in his chest, the back of Sigurds head just inches from his face. He smelt nice, like the fancy shampoo he’d always used.

“I’m not squashing you, am I? Can you still see?” Sigurd turned to look at Timo over his shoulder, and Timo just swallowed thickly as he shook his head,

“Nope, you’re not squashing me!” he hurried to reassure him, but then blinked as Sigurd just continued to stare at him,

“Oh! And no, I can’t see but I don’t need to, you’re the one steering.” he teased, but his laughter faltered when Sigurd’s expression turned to one less than impressed,

“Yes, yes, I can see, don’t worry.”

Giving Sigurd a firm nod and a smile, Timo leaned a little so that he was looking ahead over Sigurd’s shoulder,

“Okay, I’m going to accelerate now. I trust you, but please don’t ruin the field.” 

He took the handbrake off with a clunk and gently pressed his foot down on the pedal, feeling Sigurd tense a little in front of him when the tractor engine loudly rumbled as they began to inch forward. 

As carefully as he could, Sigurd guided the tractor through the field, lowering and raising the plough as Timo had shown him when he reached the end and turned around. A couple of times he didn't plough right to the end of the field, or he ran the tractor over an area that had already been turned over and flattened it again, but Timo couldn't bring himself to care.

“So.. you’re going to take over the farm?” Sigurd asked after a while, raising his voice a little to be heard over the engine but didn't take his eyes off the field straight ahead. 

Timo sighed,

“How do you know?”

He chewed on the inside of his lip while Sigurd shrugged

“I heard your Mom talking about it with your Dad a little last night,” he paused to glance at Timo over his shoulder and laughed lightly, “I didn't understand much, my Finnish is still very beginner and your Mom talks _way_ too fast - but I noticed you’d been doing a lot more too so I guess I just put two and two together…” he trailed off, and Timo let his head fall back onto the headrest behind him as he sighed again.

He was quiet for a moment as he watched a flock of starlings cross the sky before they settled in the trees, and realised when they came to a stop in the middle of the open field and the rumble of the tractor dulled that he’d taken his foot off the acceleration absentmindedly.

Timo was then met by Sigurd’s face as he twisted in his seat and turned around so that his back was against the steering wheel and his legs hung out the side of the tractor, his own leg pressed beneath them.

“When I’m 21 they’re going to sign the farm over to me.” he said quietly, and Sigurd’s eyebrows raised a little.

“I know, crazy to think that all this land will be mine.”

Spreading his arms wide dramatically, Timo gestured to the fields surrounding them, then let them drop loosely by his sides as he slumped into his seat.

Sigurd was quiet for a moment as he hung his head and fiddled with the end of his sleepshirt.

“You’re so lucky.” he muttered after a little while, and Timo sat up a bit, stunned,

“Really? You think so?”

Flipping his hair out of his eyes with the jerk of his head, Sigurd nodded and looked up and met Timo’s gaze for a moment as he shrugged before looking out across the field,

“I guess you just have so much freedom. Like you can do whatever you want with this place.”

Following Sigurd’s eyeline, Timo turned to look at the cow shed in the distance, 

“Sigurd, it’s a dairy farm. I don’t know what else there is to do.” he said bluntly, and Sigurd sighed as he brought his gaze back to look at Timo, scraping a hand through his curls,

“No I mean, it'll be your life, you'll be making all your own decisions. You'll know exactly what you're doing, when I'll be running for the bus to make sure I don't miss my next lecture or pulling an all nighter to get my essays done.

“But I thought you were excited to study business? You’ve always been good at that sorta stuff.”

Timo was surprised at the flat tone in Sigurd’s voice. He’d always been more academic than him, with straight A’s and a great school report, and quite frankly Timo had always been a little jealous. 

“I am, I mean I want the degree so I can get out into the world, but I just don't wanna do any of the work for it. I know it sounds stupid because of course I have to work for it, but I suppose I just don’t want to spend the next couple of years cooped up in a tiny student apartment in Oslo.” 

With a strained smile, Sigurd twisted a strand of hair around his finger before tucking it away behind his ear, and Timo placed his hand on his knee and gave it a little squeeze,

“Well you can come here any time. I'll just be busy, but that's okay. Now we're both done with school we don't have to wait for summer, right? What if you spent Christmas here one year? The farm looks pretty in the snow.” Timo mused, and was glad when Sigurd nodded and his smile grew wider,

“That would be nice.” he said, looking down at Timo’s hand for a moment before gently putting his own over it,

“Or maybe one day you could get out of Askola, apply for a passport and leave Finland for once and come and visit me?” 

Timo nodded, his heart aching at the thought of getting to be part of Sigurd’s life for once, away from the farm, his family, and see something completely new,

“I’d like that.”

\--------------

When Timo’s digital watch beeped as 7am came around, he’d hurried back into the drivers seat properly, with Sigurd sitting on his lap as he finished ploughing the field. Sigurd told Timo about Emil’s plan to study in Hong Kong when he started University next year, and the pair of them had laughed as they remembered all the games that they used to play as a trio when they were little, hidden amongst the barley in the very field that they were ploughing. 

It was always when Sigurd was here did Timo realise how much he missed him when he wasn’t here, and Timo didn’t have many fun memories that didn’t involve Sigurd in some way. 

As they bumped back up the dirt path toward the house, Timo spotted Petteri at the end of the driveway with his hands firmly on his hips, and his heart jumped into his throat,

“Sigurd, get off my knee, quickly.” he hissed into Sigurd’s ear, and Sig scrambled to instead perch beside him on the seat. 

“Do not tell him that I let you drive.”

He could feel Sigurd’s knowing glance beside him, and couldn’t help but smile when Sigurd curled his pinkie finger around his own where his hand sat on top of the shift stick, a silent promise.

"Timo-Johan, what took you so long? What's Sigurd doing up there with you?" Petteri questioned, a scowl on his face, talking loudly over the tractor engine as Timo came to a stop at the end of the driveway,

“I was just showing him the field, Dad, he wanted to-” Timo began to reason, but Petteri just cut him off as he turned to Sigurd and addressed him with a switch to broken English,

“Sigurd. Karoliina has been called for you. Go inside to see with her.” he ordered, Sigurd shot Timo an apologetic look before he slunk down from the tractor and tiptoed quickly across the gravel and disappeared into the house.

Timo landed with a thud when he jumped down, narrowing his eyes at his father,

“We were just hanging out. The engine was shot so Sigurd came out to see me while I fixed it and he just wanted to see the field. He likes the farm, Dad, and he’s come all this way to see us-” he began to protest, but once again was cut off as Petteri sighed heavily and rolled his eyes,

“Yes, and I never should have allowed it. You’re too busy and grown up now to play silly games. You’re a man now, not a little boy, and you should be moving on from Sigurd.”

Timo felt his eyes prickle in frustration, and his fist balled by his side, but before he could say anything that could result in him being sent to his room, his mother’s voice carried across the yard.

Turning towards the house, he found her standing on the porch with her arms folded tightly across her chest, her gaze flickering between Timo and her husband.

“Petteri? Can I have a word?” she called over, her tone firm, then she looked back at Timo and her gaze softened,

“Timo sweetheart, come into the house please. Your breakfast is on the table.”

Not needing to be told twice, Timo thrust the keys to the tractor into Petteri’s hand and hurried toward the house. Karoliina gave his shoulder a quick squeeze and kissed the top of his head as she asked him to keep an eye on the bread in the oven, before heading down the path towards Timo’s father. 

Angrily kicking off his boots, Timo hovered in the hall for a moment as he left the front door slightly ajar,

 _“I can’t believe you sometimes, Petteri. He’s only sixteen, you shouldn’t be working him so hard.”_ Karoliina’s voice drifted up the path, and Timo flinched even from where he was standing behind the door several feet away when Petteri scoffed loudly,

“ _He needs to toughen up. I know he’s sixteen, but Timo-Johan isn’t a child anymore. I knew that I never should have let you talk me into letting Sigurd come this year-”_

“ _You_ **_know_ ** _why I asked you to let him come, and why Timo needs him here. You can’t ignore it, Petteri, our boy isn’t happy-”_

Deciding he’d heard enough, Timo slammed the door closed and scrubbed his hands over his face, trying his best to ignore the tightening of his chest as he took in a deep breath. 

Then, once his breathing had slowed and he swallowed the lump in his throat, Timo slipped out of his overalls and followed the smell of breakfast.

Sigurd was sitting at the table spreading jam on a slice of toast as he entered the room, and looked up at Timo with a warm smile,

“Here, I made you some toast. You should eat it before it gets cold.” he said as he leant over the table and set the plate down in front of the empty chair opposite him.

“Thanks, Sig.” Timo put on a cheerful smile as sat down, and watched as Sigurd nodded in satisfied approval as he picked up a slice and took a bite. 

They ate in silence for a little while, and Timo felt the soft weight of Hana come and sit on his feet beneath the table as she snuck into the kitchen. 

“Sorry about my Dad.” he said eventually between mouthfuls as he reached for the coffee pot in the middle of the table.

“Don’t worry about it, Tim, I know what he’s like by now.” Sigurd shrugged, but though his words were probably meant to be reassuring, they only made Timo feel worse,

“Ha, yeah. I guess you do.”

The front door opened and closed, and Karoliina breezed into the kitchen, 

“So what did you think of Timo’s driving skills, huh?” she smiled at Sigurd as she ruffled Timo’s hair, and Sigurd gave Timo a smirk across the table,

“They’re not bad. Though I think I might be better.” he said, and Karoliina laughed as she bent down to open the oven, the smell of fresh bread suddenly filling the room,

“Oh really? Well, maybe you’d like your own pair of overalls then and we can put you to some use.”

Both boys faces lit up at her words, and they exchanged glances,

“ _Mitkä? Tarkoitatko sitä?” (What? Do you mean it?)_ Timo gushed, and his mother just shrugged,

“Sure, why not. Though you have to say it’s voluntary work if anyone asks, Sigurd, I don’t want to get in trouble for putting you to work on a visiting visa.” she said as she winked and tapped the side of her nose. 

“My Timo can show you some things around the farm and you can help him with his jobs, but only if you’d like to.” 

Putting the hot bread onto a wire rack, Karoliina opened the window and set it down on the sill to cool, though it was in vain as the summer air outside would soon be as warm as it was indoors.

“Of course, I’d like that a lot.” Sigurd nodded, and Timo felt like he might burst, 5am early starts suddenly seeming as though they’d be a little more bearable. 

“Okay, well we can discuss it later, don’t you boys have plans to go to the lake later?” 

Taking a seat at the table, Timo’s mother poured herself a mug of coffee and raised it to her lips, and Timo slumped a little in his chair,

“Yeah, but Dad asked me to do the ledgers, so we’ll go later.”

“Don’t worry about your father. I’ll do the ledgers. I’m not just a pretty face you know, and no one knows this farms’ takings better than me.” Karoliina said with pride, then looked at her son with a smile full of nothing but love, “You two take the day off and have fun while the sun is out.”

Timo felt Sigurd nudge his leg under the table, and couldn’t help but beam as he pulled his mother into an awkward half-hug from where she was sitting beside him at the table.

“Thank you, Mom. I love you.” he muttered against her shoulder, and felt it shake beneath his cheek as she laughed lightly,

“I love you too sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dorks, honestly.
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter, I really enjoyed writing it. I promise it wont be so long again before the next update :')
> 
> Thank you for reading, see you next chapter!
> 
> -lumassen x


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